The Soundtrack of Our LivesA Double Album in Prose​by Annie Christie

Genre:DramaSwearwords: None.Description:For anyone who has ever got lost in music!

​Disc TwoSide Two

A Little Ditty

Oh, yeah, life goes on,Long after the thrill of living is gone (John Cougar)

​Track EightNo never, I'm never gonna stopFalling in love with you (The Corrs)~ 1998 ~​

​​The morning after the night before. After Grant had left, I realised I’d not caught up with Laura’s life. I toyed with the idea of ringing her up, but I was busy at work and the reunion was only a month away after all so I didn’t bother making direct contact.

Perhaps I should back the truck up slightly. There’s something I haven’t told you yet about 1998. A couple of months before Grant popped up out of the blue, I’d seen Mark again.

He was still the same. He invited me to a ‘must see’ concert at the Royal Albert Hall. It was part of the Talk on Corners tour by the Corrs. I don’t even know why I went. I had no intention of getting back together again. But I guess, in the words of The Corrs first album (which I’d never heard of) it might be Forgiven, not forgotten.

Having consigned Mark firmly to the past and having convinced myself that I had done the same with Grant, something in me told me it was time to go for the full set.

‘I don’t wanna get over you’ and ‘two out of three ain’t bad’ should have been enough warning but of course it wasn’t. I swithered back and forward; in the end it was Billy’s birthday song that convinced me. I had deliberately not looked at the charts for years, but after Grant’s visit, I cracked – in the spirit of trying to move on – and it didn’t take long to discover All Saints Under the bridge. It felt horribly appropriate.

Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner, Sometimes I feel like my only friend Is the city I live in the city of cities, Lonely as I am, together we cry we cry we cry

I drove up to Edinburgh in my ridiculously expensive Mercedes SL500 convertible – a car I rarely took out of the garage.

Obviously it had a great sound system, and as I drove I switched between all the old heart wrenching favourites from the seventies, mixed with the modern combination of Celine Dion, The Corrs, and because he was pretty unavoidable round then, a bit of Robbie Williams thrown in for good measure. I arrived in Edinburgh a total wreck. Girl power it was not. Music still had the power to take me places, though in reality it was less Roxy Music Love is the Drug and more The Verve The Drugs don’t work that was coursing through me as I fronted up at the posh Edinburgh restaurant that had been chosen for this, our 20th reunion.

Why a restaurant? I suppose everyone had wanted to prove that we were ‘over’ school. In which case, though, why have a reunion at all? I was deeply regretting my decision before I’d even locked the car… when an all too familiar voice broke me out of my panic.

‘Hey, cool car, Janie.’

It was Billy. I knew it before I turned round. I almost didn’t want to turn round. I almost didn’t want to see how he’d ‘grown up’. I didn’t know what to expect so for a brief moment I imagined him circa 1975 with his Rod Stewart haricut, not his Navy cut from the last time I saw him in 1988. Stupidly, what I didn’t expect was to see him attached by the arm to a long, slender, blonde woman. Steph. I hated her on sight. Well, you’d expect that, wouldn’t you? It wasn’t her fault. Well, maybe.

Anyway, I tried to cover up my feelings with a simple, ‘Hi, how’re you?’

‘Married,’ he said. As if I really needed to know that. Straight in the guts.

I returned her vapid, plastic smile with the best one I could muster.

‘So I see.’ Trying not to make it sound like it was coming through gritted teeth.

I let them go in before me. And no, her bum didn’t look big in her ridiculously skimpy outfit.

Could it get any worse? Of course it could. There was still Grant and Rachel to come. And Laura. To be precise, Laura and Chris. Seems there was a lot Grant hadn’t told me. I should definitely have done my homework before this reunion, I told myself, too late.

So. To catch you up. Laura wasn’t married. She was, however, newly pregnant With her third child. Chris, who I really didn’t take to either, was some kind of art dealer. Or antiques dealer. Or something.

There were about twenty of us, most of whom I didn’t recognise, seated at tables of six. Since I was single, and seemed to be the only one, ours was a table of seven. I was on the end, stuck close to the wall. How like old times? I was effectively between Steph and Laura. Next to Steph was Billy, and then it got a bit tasty, as the London traders would have said. Rachel was sat next to Billy. You couldn’t make it up. She was across the table from Grant and he was sat next to Chris, who was right next to Laura.

It was all so terribly civilised. I mean, obviously I couldn’t hear the conversation at the far end of the table but if you’d have asked me ten years earlier whether, if Billy and Rachel weren’t married and Rachel and Grant were married, and to each other, they would all sit down at the same table together, frankly I’d have told you to take a jump. It just couldn’t happen. But it did. I couldn’t stop flashing back to the classroom in the days of Bohemian Rhapsody and wondered if Billy and Rachel still remembered holding hands under the desk as clearly as I did. You wouldn’t have known it from their faces. Look at the class of 78/79. All grown up, eh? Forgiven not forgotten?

There was no music, of course, it being a posh restaurant, but somehow, with nothing else to talk about, the talk turned to music. Laura asked Steph what kind of music she liked. It was like she was doing it deliberately. I definitely detected a bitchy undertone. Steph seemed oblivious to it. Her tastes were, shall we say, suspect. Ten years younger than us, she was a child of the emerging hip hop, garage, dance culture. She happily admitted she liked Robbie Williams but disclosed that her first love was Prince. Or should I say the artist formerly known as Prince. I can’t comment. I’ve never listened to a Prince track in my life. She told us proudly that Billy had just bought her the Crystal Ball triple album for her 30th birthday and I shuddered.

‘And does he listen to it with you?’ asked Laura.

Steph was oblivious to the jibe. I venture to say, Steph was pretty oblivious all round, really. The word bimbo springs to mind.

‘He’s away so much,’ she said. It was the mother of all non sequiturs.

That night, I remember feeling grateful that at least there seemed to be no Scooby, Doobs or Stevie to contend with. None of them had shown. Busy living their real lives, I suppose. Anyway, as far as spectres of a misspent youth went, in my case Grant was enough. More than enough. Chris and he seemed to be the only ones enjoying the evening, and neither of them had any right to be there.

For me at least, the whole night was painful. It really was Life thru a Lens. Every time I looked at Steph I felt for Billy. She’s taken me places I should never have been… these are strange days indeed.

Clearly he’d lost his mind. I tried to imagine him listening to The artist… no, I couldn’t do it. How could he have..? Well, clearly it was an action directed at Rachel. They sat next to each other, like two adults who’d never exchanged more than Christmas cards. At the time even I was taken in by it. It must have been killing them. You can go your own way alright. The days of Stevie Nicks and Rod Stewart were long gone. I wondered if Grant had stolen their memories at the same time he stole Rachel from Billy. And not for the first time I wondered when it actually was that Grant had made his move. Before or after Jesse’s girl? Was it Rick Springfield? Was it The Cars, My Best Friend’s Girl or the Beat’s Hands off she’s mine? Or was it in the days of Fleetwood Mac? Just what song was it that created Jack and Diane, Rachel and Grant and Billy and Steph. And why was I nowhere in the picture?

I might be one of God’s better people but I doubt it. Towards the end of the evening Laura, who really shouldn’t have been drinking in her condition, was obviously the worse for wear and started singing Robbie Williams at me: It must hurt to see your favourite man, Lose himself again and again, And I know that you're my only friend, From way back when.

Laura could be really mean when she wanted to be. But I guess I asked for it – I’d just rocked up there without even making an attempt to rekindle our friendship first. Without even bothering to find out what had happened to her in the past decade. But then, it takes two. I knew we so needed to talk. But it was neither the time nor the place.

~ 2013 ~

‘Why did you act so weird at the 20th reunion,’ I finally asked.

‘Don’t know what you mean,’ she replied.

‘I mean,’ I said, ‘that we’d not seen each other in years. You’d never told me you had kids, you didn’t talk properly to me all night, you just seemed to be winding up Steph, being mean to me and…’

‘She was a…’

‘Whatever she was,’ I said, ‘there was no need for that.’

‘Oh, I think there was,’ she said. ‘There so was. She was killing him as slowly as possible with her Robbie Williams/Prince fandom view of the world.’

‘Have you been drinking?’ I asked. I was on the phone so I couldn’t tell.

‘Who are you? My mother?’ she said.

It was stupid of me. Of course she’d been drinking. Then, now, always. And if I’m honest, I totally knew why.

‘She was a stupid, vapid…’

‘And he should have married you?’

She put the phone down on me.

Then rang me up again. That was so Laura. Always needed to have the last word.

‘Whatever songs we play at the reunion,’ she said, ‘If anyone puts on Angels I will commit cold-blooded murder.’

And that was that. Ah, Laura, as Robbie said later on, I’ve been expecting you.

So it was said. And unsaid. Neither confirm nor deny. But I knew, as you know, that Laura was every bit as in love with Billy as I was. Every bit as unsuccessful, but with more of a ‘claim’ over the years. Did he ever know the wave of carnage he left in his slipstream. I doubt it. In May 2013 I seriously wondered if we should cancel the reunion, in case he found out. Finally.

I knew what Laura meant about Angels, though. I hate it nearly as much as I hate the memory of Steph. Because fortunately, in 2013 she was just a memory. Not a good one. But a part of the past.

~ 1998 ~

After Steph had given Laura and me the benefit of her opinion on what good music was, and the bill had been paid, the all too civilised event was over. No one suggested ‘going on’ to another venue. Looking back, I think everyone just wanted to get back to their own versions of real life and forget it had ever happened. Something really ended that night. Or so I thought.

But it wasn’t over.

As we left, Billy came up to me and said, ‘Hey, Janie, can I check out your car?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

Looking back, I realise it was a good way for him to avoid having to say goodbye to Rachel and Grant, but at the time I wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the fact that he’d asked to get in my car.

I should have found it in me to like Steph, I suppose, but I hated her. Perhaps I went a bit too far. Laura was last seen waddling up the road, drunkenly holding on to Chris, and the field was mine. I came out with the immortal line:

‘Who’s going to drive you home?’

Billy laughed. Steph didn’t get it.

‘The Cars’ he said.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Before your time, babe,’ he said.

‘Babe.’ Oh, how I wanted to throw up. ‘Babe.’ Like something out of Take That. Come on, Billy, you’re better than that, surely?

And then Steph said, ‘Why not have a ride home in Jane’s car if you like, I’ll take Prince.’

She’d called the car after her pop idol. Even I was never that sad.

I looked at Billy, unable to say anything.

‘Save me from the Crystal Ball,’ he said. And I wasn’t sure he was joking.

Should Steph have been worried? Of course not. She felt so safe with that wedding ring on her finger. She had seen off Rachel that night already and I was small fry compared to that. Billy belonged to her.

Off Steph toddled to renew her love affair with Prince and Billy headed for my passenger seat. I couldn’t believe my luck.

‘D’you wanna drive?’ I asked him.

‘You serious?’ he said.

‘Of course,’ I replied trying not to feel like the kid with the drum-kit.

He got into the driver’s seat. Put the roof down.

We were headed out of town as he said, ‘Get some good tunes on, Janie.’

‘Do you like the Corrs?’ I asked. It was windy. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘you know I do.’

So I put on Talk on Corners. And we blasted along.

We drove through Only When I Sleep and When He's Not Around and then on came the bonus track Dreams.

Mark had given me a copy of the special edition, before it was released, after the Albert Hall gig. It didn’t get him entry to my flat that night. I held firm on that resolve at least. Seeing Mark, so unchanged, after all those years simply confirmed to me that, however sad I was I was not going back to that. When I said ‘Goodbye’ to him that night, I meant it. I wasn’t going to look back in anger. I’d moved on, even if Oasis hadn’t. He didn’t take it too well, but I simply thought Take that look from off your face Cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out and waved him goodbye.

It was one of my proudest moments in a life with precious few of them. And then, to test me again, fate popped Grant into my path. I’d fended him off too. But Billy… Billy wasn’t in the same league.

‘That’s not The Cars,’ Billy said. And stopped the car.

‘Corrs,’ I said, not Cars.

He put the track on again. We sat there under a streetlight. I’ve never known four minutes and one second last so long.

‘Wow,’ he said. ‘That’s a great cover.’

‘Bring back memories?’ I asked.

‘I’d say Happy Days,’ he said, ‘but…’

‘Life goes on,’ I added.

He started the car again. And off we sped to What Can I Do, followed by I Never Loved You Anyway, So Young and Don’t Say you Love me. It was just about the most perfect album ever. It kind of said it all.

‘There’s more,’ I said, as I rooted around in the glove box for Forgiven, not Forgotten. We’d got to Runaway as we pulled up at the semi-detached house in Rosyth that was home to Steph and Billy. He stopped the engine.

Say it's true, there's nothing like me and you

I'm not alone, tell me you feel it too

And I would run away I would run away, yeah..., yeah

I would run away I would run away with you.

And then…

‘Great night, Janie,’ he said.

The Fiesta was in the drive. There were no lights on downstairs but what I took to be the bedroom light was on upstairs.

‘Want to come in for a coffee?’ he asked.

I shook my head. ‘No, it’s okay.’

‘Not a bad ride,’ he said, ‘Fancy a swap?’

There was a pause. I really didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to think about where this might be going. I knew I was reading into the lyrics.

‘Prince for the Merc,’ he continued. Then I knew he was joking.

I took out the CD. Put it together with the other Corrs one.

‘Have them,’ I said.

‘No, don’t be daft,’ he replied.

‘Seriously,’ I said, ‘call it a late birthday present.’

‘Thanks,’ he said…

‘What for?’ I said

‘For… you know… for Runaway… and…driving me home. ’

‘Any time,’ I said. And I meant it.

I drove home switching between singing what can I do to make you love me and I'm never gonna stop Falling in love with you at the top of my voice. I didn’t need the CDs. It may not have been that tuneful, but it was heartfelt.

I kind of hoped that every time he played The Corrs he’d think of me. And if not, then at least I could rest happy knowing the Steph would probably hate it. So I was probably not one of god’s better people after all!

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About the Author

​Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?

Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.

The Soundtrack of Our Lives is Annie's fourth McSerial written for McStorytellers.